Part Nargle
by Mesita
Summary: Nargles are mischievous thieves, something in which Fred Weasley II can identify. It seems, however, that no one but Lysander Scamander believes in the mistletoe-dwellers. Fred/Lysander
1. Part Nargle

Disclaimer: I do not, could not, would not, should not own the Harry Potter series or characters. They belong to the ever-lovely J.K.R.

Note: This setting takes place during Fred's sixth year and Lysander's fifth year at Hogwarts. The bulk of this chapter/prologue is set just before the epilogue in _Deathly Hallows_. Fred and James have just finished their first year at Hogwarts and Teddy Lupin has just graduated. Also, this may sound repetitive, but since there is no canonical reference to these characters other than their names and their parents, they can be any age I need them to be, and as far apart in age as I need them to be, and their personalities are up for grabs.

Part Nargle

By: Kitzaku

There is a subtle art to telling twins apart, and Fred Weasley II was convinced he had it down pat. It could be because his father had once had another half, or it could simply be because Lorcan and Lysander Scamander were as different as night and day.

Fred would never forget the day he met the twins, for it was at Teddy Lupin's graduation party. Teddy had been the first in their generation of children born post-war, so the celebration had been a large one. Then again, any celebration involving the Weasleys tended to be large just by itself. His father had explained that the twins' mother was a long-time friend of the family. Usually a "friend of the family" more or less meant a friend of Uncle Ron or Uncle Harry, but for once Fred wasn't bothered with such details.

Instead, Fred was bothered with the fact that both twins looked entirely out of place and was even more bothered by the fact that they were the most blond-haired, blue-eyed wizards in the entire celebration. Amongst the pile of redheads, their features did rather stand out. However, the man of the hour had turquoise hair, himself, but Teddy had always been proud to stand out, just as Fred had been proud of his distinct traits—the twins did not look as proud.

It may not have been their hair color at all, in fact, for Fred had then been introduced to their mother. She was an eccentric witch with canary yellow robes and blonde hair that had to be bundled up, lest it drag on the floor. Fred stifled a laugh when he saw her, and ended up snorting a little, but was hammered in the side by his little sister. He shut up.

"Oh, Good Afternoon, George! How is the shop?"

"As busy as ever, my dear Luna. How are the nargles?"

"After your other ear. They are quite fond of them."

"I see you've outgrown many of your childhood beliefs."

"And you've outgrown many of your childhood pranks."

Fred let the two adults carry on a boring conversation, as most adults tend to do. He had instead decided to focus more on the twins who looked as though they were trying desperately to look unrelated to each other. Like many children do when they first meet, both the twins orbited around their mother at a close radius, eyes wide and alert. Other than looking identical in the faces, the twins had the same hairstyle, but parted it on different sides of their head. It was a strange common practice, but nevertheless effective.

There was really no reason to be so enthralled with the two boys, but Fred was glad that there were other children out there with war-heroes for parents who _weren't_ related to him. Despite the awkward social situation, Fred wanted nothing more than to be friends with the twins, even though they had an odd mother. She was, in fact, kind of interesting, and he kind of almost wanted to know what nargles were, but he decided that would be another topic for another time.

A hand on Fred's shoulder caused him to look up and see the smiling face of his father. "I want the two of you to meet our dear friend Luna Scamander's children: Lorcan and Lysander Scamander." They waved in order, respectively, as if this sort of introduction had happened all the time, and then looked disgusted that they had done something twin-like. "I want you two to show them around. I want to catch up on a few things with their mother."

With the adults gone, the twins looked as though their umbilical cords had just recently been severed and they froze in place. Fred smiled, suddenly, glad that he was able to speak freely. "I'm Weasley number 548 and this is my sister, Weasley number 549. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure." Roxanne, gave a slight curtsy for effect.

The twins merely nodded.

"We're both squibs."

Another collaborative nod.

"Vampire squibs." Roxanne added.

A third nod.

"And our mother was part nargle." Fred threw in.

"She couldn't have been! Nargles don't reproduce with humans!" One of the twins suddenly shouted out, causing the other twin to hit him hard in the arm. The bold twin who had spoken out, held his arm in pain and whimpered a little, but proceeded to kick his brother in the shin.

"There are no such things as nargles." The attacking twin fumed. "How many times do I have to pound it into your skull?"

"You pounded my arm, not my skull."

"Pardon me, let me correct that."

"Ow! Lorcan!"

Fred exchanged glances with Roxanne and proceeded to watch the two in amusement. He knew sibling rivalry existed, mostly because he and Roxanne liked to fight at times, but he was mostly very protective of his little sister. He allowed the twins to duke it out some more before deciding to intervene. Calmly, he stepped into the middle of the skirmish and pried the twins from each other.

"Boys, boys, boys, that isn't how we behave at a most festive celebration! Put on your cheerful smiles and allow Weasley number 548 to escort you around the premises." He said, trying to sound more or less like an exhaustingly joyful tour guide. The twins scowled at each other on either side of Fred and the Weasley sighed, knowing he basically had one option, "Or am I going to have to separate you two?"

Another swipe from Lorcan was all he needed; he quickly blocked the attack on Lysander and pulled the whinier of the two twins away to safety. "Roxanne." He called, motioning for his sister to come to the aide of Lorcan almost immediately. "You take one, I've got the other."

"Right."

Once safely away from Lorcan, Lysander's strangled breathing became even as Fred helped him to an empty chair. "You okay? How's your arm?"

"I'm fine, it's fine. Everything is fine." Lysander mumbled, rubbing his head moreso than his arm.

"You two had better work on your communication skills." Fred said, trying to initiate conversation. The attempt failed miserably, mostly because Lysander was busy trying to look invisible. His blonde hair was a bit long, so when he hung his head, it covered his eyes quite effectively. This effect, however, only made him look more like a sheep dog and less like an invisible boy. Fred sighed once again and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry about insulting nargles, all right? They're wonderful… creature… things… and I'm sure they're awfully nice."

Lysander sniffed a little. "No they aren't."

"They aren't?" Fred asked in mock interest, although it really could have been actual interest if he had allowed it to be.

"They're famous for… for being mischievous thieves. They once did away with mum's stuff when she was little, they did." Lysander's voice was gaining confidence, now. It had a kind of dreamy and slow quality to it that rather matched his mother's.

"Mischievous thieves, huh?" Fred echoed, looking thoughtful. He had been known to be something of a thief himself, although he had never actually stolen anything of value. He and his best friend James Potter II had tried to gain a reputation for themselves during their first year of Hogwarts, but it only got them as far as a few detentions. Rather than scolding him over these detentions, his father appeared quite proud.

The remainder of the party went on as scheduled. Roxanne and Fred were very diligent in keeping the twins away from each other as much as possible, for once a fight broke out between the two of them, their stubborn personalities took hold and they had to debate it out—with fists moreso than words. Lysander was good company for Fred, seeing as James was preoccupied with Teddy and the proceedings. In turn for someone interesting and new to talk to, Fred gave Lysander a personal tour of his favorite Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes products and even allowed the twin to take a few home to play some pranks on his brother should another fight break out between the two of them.

Fred was sad to see the Scamanders leave, but he had made a new friend—someone who was unaware of the Weasley tradition of pale skin, freckles and red hair. Lysander had not once made a comment about Fred's skin or hair color and simply accepted him for who he was: Weasley number 549.

* * *

Meeting Lysander had been a fond memory, and something Fred had held close over the next four years. It wasn't until that following fall that he would see Lysander again at the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts. His hair was still parted to the right and he still looked as shy and nervous as ever. Fred wouldn't admit to anyone that he felt a little upset when the blond boy hadn't even bothered to search the room for him. A Weasley usually stood out in a crowd—and Fred stood out even among the Weasleys.

The trouble was that Lysander, along with his twin brother, had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Adding to the fact that Lysander was a year under Fred, the two had barely had a chance to speak outside of Quidditch games and mealtime. It didn't help that Fred was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, like his father, and that caused the two wizards only to converse when Gryffindor was not playing. Even mealtime conversations were cut short due to the fact that oftentimes Fred had detention or the houses were split according to their tables. Rather than let it get to either of them, the friendship between both Fred and Lysander became somewhat of a nice memory and was left at that.

Instead, Fred concentrated on the matters at hand: trying to find ways to sneak out with James. His best friend had stolen this wonderful bit of parchment off his own father's desk when he was younger, and now the two cousins delighted in discovering its secrets. It had taken them quite some time to learn how work it, but both boys had a kind of eerie feeling that they had a kind of connection to the Marauder's Map. James, slightly worried that his father would deprive him of the map, hadn't asked Mr. Potter just who Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were.

"It probably doesn't matter," Fred reassured James one day after the black-haired wizard had exclaimed once again about the genius of these four fellows (they had to have been guys, because girls always stuck to authority, of course) and had wondered out loud, just who they might have been. "They're long gone, and the fact that we still have this map probably means that they don't miss it."

"Yeah, you're probably right." James sighed, opening the map once more and studying the figures on it. Fred peered over his shoulder to get a good look, as well. The reason for their nighttime sneaks was mostly because with all the names on the map moving around, it was so hard to probably locate anything during the day. At night, the names were bunched up in the dormitories, making the layout of the castle much easier to make out.

"Filch is on the fifth floor." Fred pointed to a figure pacing back and fourth. "And look, Peeves is in that room he's pacing in front of. Good ol' Peeves, creating a distraction without realizing it." He shared a mutual grin with James. It was rare that such a situation as this came up.

"Where to?" James held his wand over the map, illuminating it. The two boys were in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for the right moment to sneak out. Of course, the worst part was trying to sneak past the portrait of the Fat Lady. Fred had access to his father's store supply as he would be the sole heir to the shop, so they were able to use modified Headless Hats. These hats did more than just their make their head become invisible—the range moved down to the floor, making the entire body invisible. It was pretty useful, but it did have its drawbacks. The invisibility radius was only so limited, so they would have to keep themselves in a limited amount of positions. The hats worked best when the wearer was standing still, but if the wearer shuffled, the general effect was maintained. Things would have been easier if they had something like, say, an invisibility cloak, but they had none, and the hats would have to do.

"I'm hungry, but for nothing that would fill me up." Fred said. "And I'm tired of sneaking down to the kitchens for a bite to eat. Let's go to Honeydukes for once."

James' eyes widened momentarily. "But we've never actually spent time at the other end of a secret passageway, much less _stolen_ anything." He paused a moment. "But some peppermint toad creams sound bloody mouthwatering."

Once their destination was agreed upon, Fred and James set out to the secret passageway leading to the basement of Honeydukes. James held the map close to his body and occasionally, they would stop in the middle of a corridor to check the map in case either Filch or Peeves changed positions. On occasion, another name would appear in a given corridor, but these were easily avoided as they were only the names of the Head Boy and Head Girl and the two of them had about as much expertise in catching sneaks than a dog had playing the banjo.

The passageway to Honeydukes was just as cold as the night air that was surely about ten feet above them. Fred made constant sweeping motions with his hands to clear any cobwebs in the passageway. After all, being invisible didn't mean he couldn't run into things and cobwebs were certainly the last thing he wanted to walk in to.

Finally, the hidden passageway came to a dead end and Fred helped hoist James up to open the trap door above their heads. After a bit of fumbling in the darkness to find a handle, James opened the door and he and Fred hoisted themselves into the basement of the finest sweet shop in the entirety of Hogsmeade.

The advantage to such a situation was that any security measures taken against intruders were set in the main shop above them. Here in the basement, it was figured that surely no one would enter from a tightly sealed area and the barrels of sweets were theirs for the taking. The two mischief makers made sure to only take the sweets from pre-opened sources and only enough so that it hardly appeared as though they were there. They stuffed their pockets with various treats and soon began the long trek back toward Hogwarts, munching on some licorice wands along the way.

"Say, James." Fred said about midway through the tunnel when it was deemed safe enough to speak out loud. While in the castle and on Honeydukes, all speaking and whispering was forbidden so as to keep the effects of the Headless Hats plausible.

"Yeah." James said between mouthfuls of treacle tart.

"Do you ever think that we could be part nargle?" The question had come up quite suddenly, even for Fred.

"Part _what_?" James raised an eyebrow that Fred could not see.

"They're mischevious thieves that live in mistletoe…. You know what? Nevermind." Fred said, trying not to laugh as just a cover up. He had stolen quite a lot of things in his six years at Hogwarts, but the nonchalant way he and James had decided to go to Hogsmeade and just take what wasn't theirs seemed to set something off in his mind and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Weasley number 549 thought of Lysander Scamander.

"I would kill myself before I lived in mistletoe." James said, his voice starting to get quiet as they reached Hogwarts.

"Why's that?"

"Have you seen the sort of people that snog under mistletoe? I would spend my life trying not to vomit," said James.

This time, Fred didn't suppress his laughter.

He did, however, make a mental note on checking up on Lysander. It had been a long time since he had had a good conversation with the boy and it was high time Fred paid him a visit.


	2. Letters and Love Potions

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the next generation. The incredibly beautiful JKR owns everything.

Author Note: I'm assuming that Slughorn is still the professor for potions, considering he had stayed on after Harry's sixth year. Wizards are said to live a very long time, and it seems that Sluggy's number just isn't up, yet. He may have decided to stay on for… you know, another 20 years. It's possible! As for DADA and Transfiguration, I may have to just make them up. I loathe making up characters.

Part Nargle

Chapter Two

By: Kitzaku

Fred Weasley hadn't realized just how hard it was to get in contact with a Ravenclaw during their fifth year. When Fred had taken his O.W.L.S., he certainly didn't study with as much gusto as the Ravenclaws. In fact, Fred couldn't remember if he had even studied at all. He remembered vaguely having his cousin Rose try to tutor him. He wasn't even embarrassed at all that Rose was a year younger than he. In fact, he found it downright hilarious and was, at the very least, a little proud that his little cousin could be so inhumanly intelligent. Of course, her tutoring was useless because by the time he had taken his O.W.L.S., his brain had already been emptied.

But Ravenclaws, on the other hand, appeared to be quite diligent in their studies. Fred would have hated to see the Ravenclaw tower. They all probably had study sessions and book clubs and the like.

It was because of this that the only time Fred managed to even stop Lysander Scamander in the hall was just after lunch when the fifth year was scurrying off to some class or another. Fred had been waiting for him just outside the Great Hall, arms crossed and leaning nonchalantly on a conveniently placed pillar. The moment the blonde haired Ravenclaw took a step out the door, Fred's dark arm reached out to stop him.

"Oy," he called, flashing Lysander a grin. This had more of an effect when Fred did it, mostly because his skin tone greatly contrasted his pearly whites. Lysander paused a moment, offered a weak smile, and then began to continue on down the hall. Fred pushed himself off the wall and began to give chase. "Where're you goin' in such a hurry, eh?" He skipped a little in his step, to keep up with Lysander's long strides.

"I've got double potions today," Lysander said briskly. "I can't be late."

"You know, it's very nice to talk to you again, too," Fred muttered. "Old Sluggy won't mind if you're late, you know, so long as you slip in through the back. I've done it loads of times."

"Your father owns the largest joke shop franchise in the wizarding world." Lysander pointed out.

Fred smirked, "And, well, yes, there is that. I was thinking it was because I'm every so clever and incredibly sneaky."

Lysander paused long enough to give Fred a look. "Did you need something?"

"We just haven't spoken in such a long time, Lyssie!" Fred said with as much endearment in his voice as he could muster. He had never called the Ravenclaw that nickname before and wondered if he should stick with it.

Either Lysander hadn't heard the nickname, or he had tried desperately to ignore it, because his expression didn't change. "Look, I'm awful busy with my O.W.L.S. this year, so if you needed tutoring—"

"I don't need a tutor, Lyssie." Fred cut him off. "I just wanted to know if you would want to just… hang… later…" He trailed off. Suddenly he sounded and felt very awkward. Lysander was smiling at him.

And then the Ravenclaw was laughing. "Fred, you stupid git." He had stopped his running and was doubling over now, tears almost in his eyes. "I'm Lorcan. I had no idea you fancied my brother like that. He's got a free hour. I suggest you bring flowers."

Fred froze solid. He could have sworn this was Lysander. His hair was parted in the right place and everything! But, now that he thought of it, Lysander wasn't so snappy. That was Lorcan's area of expertise—which was probably why Fred wasn't friends with that twin. He narrowed his eyes, "I don't fancy him. And why are you prancing about looking like your brother?"

"I'm his twin. We were sort of born like that," Lorcan's tone was dry.

Frustrated and annoyed, Fred opened and closed his mouth much like a fish before gathering his wits and straightening himself out. He made a mental note to put Lorcan on his list-of-people-to-make-wet-the-bed the next time he and James planned a midnight excursion. "Good day, then, Lorcan. I bid you adieu." He tipped an imaginary hat and turned tail.

Honestly, Fred had no idea where Lorcan got his temper. Fred knew that Mrs. Scamander was a very nice and soft spoken witch. He didn't know much about Mr. Scamander, but if Mrs. Scamander married him, he couldn't have been a bad person. Perhaps Lorcan simply couldn't take growing up in a household filled with smiling, happy, dreamy-voiced individuals who enjoyed an outing of Crumple-Horned Snorkack-watching, or whatever it was that they did.

Fred was then at a loss as to just where Lysander could be. He didn't want to use up his entire free hour looking for him. He knew that if he were even a tad short on his paper for his Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. course, he would fail for sure. After checking the Great Hall and pacing the front of the Ravenclaw tower for some time, Fred gave up and retired to his dormitory where he tried unsuccessfully to finish his essay.

Just as he wrote his last sentence in his largest handwriting possible, an owl began tapping on his window. Confused, Fred opened the latch and pushed the great window panes outward to let the owl inside. It dropped a small letter onto James' bed and left just as sudden as it had arrived.

It was strange, mostly because all owls were strictly to deliver mail in the morning and were most definitely not to come up to the students' windows. James, however, had an internationally acclaimed father, so it was easy for him to bend the rules, but it did catch Fred as quite curious. He made another mental note to tease James incredulously for this.

All thoughts of the strange note aside, the action did give Fred a bit of an idea. Why not just write a letter to Lysander to ask him to meet up after classes today! Why he hadn't thought of that before was beyond him, and Fred suddenly thought himself quite genius.

He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and dabbed his quill in the open ink bottle again and began to write:

_Dear Lysander_,

He scratched it out. How dumb is that? Who under the age of 40 wrote 'Dear' on their letters anymore? He began again.

_Lysander_-

He scratched that out as well. It was too impersonal. He frowned, glaring at the parchment as if it had declared a great challenge.

Fred had no idea why he was making this so hard on himself. Lysander had just re-popped in his head one day and now he was obsessed with getting in contact with the fifth year. Lorcan's words scared Fred a bit, so he decided to put the cap back on his ink bottle and get packed for Defense Against the Dark Arts. If Lysander wasn't going to be his friend, then oh well, boo hoo, Fred would get over it.

He had a best friend, anyway. Potters and Weasleys always stick together. With that thought in mind, Fred made his way down to Defense Against the Dark Arts where James Potter was waiting, smiling.

"Where _were_ you? I found out where Albus has been keeping all of my dung bombs, the little thief. I was looking at the you-know-what," He tapped the blank parchment that was always in his back pocket. He was obsessed with that map. "And saw him in the third corridor hallway with that Longbottom girl. The sneaks have been putting them in a spare broom closet! I swear, the amount of broom closets that are never used in this school are ridiculous."

Fred didn't think they were hiding dung bombs in the broom closet. Rather than let James know this, he, instead, held up his paper. "I was being productive."

James eyed the paper and all the color on his face drained. "Is that due today?"

Fred nodded. James gulped.

As James hurriedly tried to scribble something down on a spare bit of parchment, Fred's eyes wandered to the Marauder's Map in James' back pocket. Oh, if only he had had that map when he needed to find Lysander! It would have saved him a great deal of trouble and embarrassment.

Fred shook his head, mentally. He had promised himself that this silly Lysander business was out of the question. Why, he had lived his whole life being totally fine without the little Scamander. It almost seemed he had woken up one day and decided his life was pain without him. Panicked, Fred began making a mental inventory of everything he had had to eat or drink within the past 24 hours, worried that someone may have slipped him a love potion.

If he had accidentally ingested a love potion--_why_ Lysander Scamander? He did a double-take. Maybe Lysander made _him_ a love potion because he was the one in love with Fred!

Fred stopped thinking for all of two seconds. The rational part of his brain that hadn't been used very much had finally kicked into gear. The very idea of a love potion was utterly ridiculous. He had seen enough of them in his father's shop to know where and when to spot them. The potions didn't even create love, they just created obsession. Besides, he and Lysander were both boys. That was utterly disgusting.

Suddenly, Fred was painfully aware of James' elbow in his side. "Fred! Pass your essay up!"

Fred did a double take and hastily passed his essay forward to be collected. He made a third mental note to stop getting lost in his head so much.

Why did being sixteen have to be so hard?

--

Dinner that evening consisted mostly of James trying to stick mashed potatoes into Albus' hair without the younger boy noticing. It was a failed attempt, however, because despite the fact that Albus' face was buried into a book on Transfiguration, he seemed to have a sixth sense on what James was doing and would bat his hand away the moment it got close. This amused Fred for some time and he watched it eagerly, glad to get a break from his own internal meanderings.

The worst part of it all, was that if Fred turned his head slightly to the right, ducked down only a tiny bit, squinted his eyes and leaned forward, he could see Lorcan and Lysander talking to each other from across the room. It was easy enough to avoid, but Fred felt as if something inside of him had been set off. No, he reminded himself, it had nothing to do with love potions or obsession. Instead, it was as if Fred had a goal. He convinced himself of that, now.

In fact, the situation was not at all unlike his third year, where he decided he was going to get inside the headmaster's office no matter what. Despite getting himself into countless detentions, he was never able to reach his goal through that route. Exasperated, he had asked James if he wanted to sneak into the office and wipe bogies on the walls. Quite, excited about the offer, the two snuck off, only to be caught by old man Filch—who never seemed to die. It wasn't until he had given up completely and was on his way to a class when the Headmaster had stopped him in the hallway during his daily rounds and asked for some help carrying some supplies up to the office.

Perhaps it was a sign, Fred thought. Perhaps he was to completely give up and ignore trying to talk to Lysander again and then maybe he would get his goal and life would resume as normal.

Satisfied with his decision, Fred turned his attention back to James and Albus. Albus must have been side-tracked by a certain page because he now had mashed potatoes caked on the left side of his head. Unable to restrain himself, Fred burst out laughing at the look of horror that had painted itself on the middle Potter's face.

James was looking quite proud of himself. "This wouldn't have happened it you hadn't hidden my dung bombs," he said matter-of-factly.

Albus nearly pouted. The poor kid always looked as though he were about to cry, and he was awfully fidgety. No one seemed to know where he got those traits. "I told you: I never took your dung bombs!"

"If you didn't take them, then _who did_?"

"Oh, I don't know, try anyone else other than me!" Albus was furious trying to get the mashed potatoes out of his hair. Sympathetic to his problem, Rose leaned over and muttered a spell under her breath. Her wand began to siphon the potatoes from her cousin's hair.

"Rubbish. I know it was you." James narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I've got a witness."

"Oh?"

"Our darling little sister."

"Lily wouldn't rat me out!"

"A ha! So you do admit it!"

"I never admitted to anything!"

Fred watched the two of them hurl insults back and forth at each other. The Potter brothers were nearly as different as night and day… kind of like the Scamander twins. Fred shook his head incredulously. These similarities weren't going to leave him alone! After much deliberation, Fred finally gave up and said, "I know who stole those dung bombs."

Both Albus and James looked to Fred in astonishment, "Who?" they asked, together.

Fred shrugged. "Nargles."

James rolled his eyes. "There you go with those nargles again."

"Nargles don't exist." Albus said, opening his Transfiguration book again. "Everyone knows that."

"Muggles don't think we exist, do they?" Fred was surprised at his own analogy. He'd have to write that one down, somewhere.

"Touché," said Albus.

Fred smiled in spite of himself, and then turned his head slightly to the right, ducked down only a tiny bit, squinted his eyes and leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Lysander, laughing merrily with some Ravenclaw girl. A sudden twinge of some foreign feeling surged up inside of him and he suddenly grew angry. Nevermind that Lysander had every right to talk to a girl in his own house and year, Fred made his very last mental note of the day: he was going to talk to Lysander Scamander, even if it killed him.


End file.
